


Egos Manor

by Theonewithmanynames



Series: Egos Manor [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Cannibalism, Chronic Pain, Depression, Found Family, Genderfluid Darkiplier, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Love Languages, Magic, Multi, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Shapeshifting, Trans Ayano, headcanons galore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonewithmanynames/pseuds/Theonewithmanynames
Summary: Short, slice-of-life type shots about what sort of shenanigans the Egos get up to in the Manor.
Relationships: Darkiplier & Marvin, Darkiplier/Wilford Warfstache, The Host/Dr. Iplier, Yancy & Eric Derikson, Yancy & Wilford Warfstache
Series: Egos Manor [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664224
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	1. Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Everyone Has Bad Days](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370447) by [Doctor_Discord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord). 



> I have absolutely given up on putting these in any sort of chronological order and I don't apologize for it.

Dark woke up alone, in the worst pain he could remember across the many varied existences that he and his parts had experienced. He spent over an hour face down, desperately trying to figure out a way to convince his broken body to move. He had things to do. He couldn't afford to take the day off. 

He finally managed to roll over (tripling his agony), but was unable to get further than that. His broken rib was especially bothering him, making every breath fatiguing. He was actually contemplating spending the day in the void, and making up a story for anyone that might ask later, when his aura alerted him to an incoming Warfstache.

"DARK!" Wilford poofed into the room, "I made chocolate waffles and you didn't even show up to breakfast!"

"Wil," Dark sighed, and jeez did he sound tired, dial it back, "not today."

Wil, unconvinced, suddenly became more serious.

"You doing okay, Dark?" 

He considered lying, but he and Wil both had the ability to see right through each other, so it would just be a waste of breath.

“This old bag of broken bones not cooperating, is all, nothing new.”

“But it’s never been this bad before, has it?” Wil asked, and when Dark reluctantly confirmed, the mustached man seemed to steel himself, “I’m going to get the Doc, and you better not have run off to the Upside-down by the time I bring him back.”

The man strode off with purpose, a soldier’s walk, and that must have been a sight. None of the others have seen the madman that lucid, except maybe the Jims. 

Dr. Iplier didn’t seem all that surprised to be brought to Dark’s room, so the Host must have given him some forewarning. He'd have to talk to the prophet about that later, although what he'd say remains to be seen. 

After gently feeling along the monochrome being’s known problem spots, Dr. Iplier pulled Wil’s bowtie right off his neck, offering the balled up cloth to Dark.

“Bite down, I need to set your rib back in place and it’s gonna hurt like a sonofabitch.”

Ah, that would explain a few things. He bit down on the pink cloth, focusing on Wil, and that was a look he didn’t like; no bowtie, lucid, concerned. He looked far too much like the Colonel.

The doctor pulled his rib back into alignment, and boy, he wasn't kidding about how much that would hurt. While Dark breathed through the pain as deeply as he dared, Iplier followed up by giving him a shot of morphine. Seems backwards, but okay.

"Thank you, Edward," Dark not-so-subtly dismissed, and the doctor departed without another word. 

"Same bedside manner as always," Wil commented, but left it alone. Instead, he pulled an honest to God wheelchair out of his hammerspace, "come on, let's get you some of those waffles, eh?"

"Wil, no," Dark started, but was interrupted.

"Would you rather stay cooped up here, Dark? That'll look worse and you know it." 

He hated to admit it, but the man was right. He needed to present at least the illusion of normalcy, or the Egos would let their imaginations run wild and convince themselves he was dying or something. 

He let Wil help him get changed and into the wheelchair, which was a suspiciously perfect fit for him, and roll him down to the dining room, using the void to bypass the stairs entirely. His aura seemed to approve, semi-solidifying to form a sort of shadow cat, draping itself across his lap where he stroked it on reflex.

The morphine really started kicking in after he finished his breakfast, making the world feel sort of fuzzy, so he spent the rest of the morning in the sunroom, reading and petting his aura, which grew softer as the world did. He thought he might have seen the Jims out of the corner of his eye at one point, but it was difficult to tell with those two - they had gotten far too good at staying just out of sight. 

The Host showed up eventually, carrying their chess set in its case, and the two of them had lunch together. It was nice to discuss mundane things with the blind man, such as the book he had just finished, rather than the next crisis he'd have to deal with that week.

As he went about his day, Dark was relieved nobody gave more than a second glance to his unusual position. Well, Yan insisted on petting his cat-shaped aura, but that was about par for the course. As they were settling in for bed, Wil finally brought it up.

"The wheelchair wasn't all that bad, was it?" The man asked, a small amount of his earlier concern bleeding through, "You'll use it again if you need it?"

"It was… fine," Dark admitted, "go ahead and put it in the closet." 

Wil beamed, hauling the chair over to the door where he started to cause quite the ruckus attempting to move enough stuff out of the way to make space, rather than just expanding the room itself. Dark resigned himself to having to reorder his side of the closet in the near future.


	2. Tea with the Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark and the Host like to sit down for tea once a week to talk about upcoming events. Mostly, it's not good news.

Summer was off to a hot start this year, so Dark made her way to the gazebo for tea with the Host, enjoying the sensation of her sundress brushing her legs and making plans to roast on the back patio later in the week. Her bones were feeling about as good as they ever were, but she had a feeling it wouldn't last and she'd need her cane come evening.

Her musings were stopped when she arrived to see what tea the Host had prepared. At first glance, it looked like a pitcher of blood, which, while not out of the question in this house, seemed unlike the man. Stepping closer, she could make out shapes floating near the bottom; berries. An iced tea, if the cooler under the table meant anything.

She had caught on to the Host's little private joke of theming the tea they would drink to what, or more frequently who, they would be talking about, but she had never seen him make this one before. And if the first impression was anything to go by, it was not good news.

Nothing was said as drinks were prepared, ice and even tea sandwiches being pulled from the cooler. She sometimes thinks the blind man has far too much fun planning their talks, but as it's pretty much the only thing he'll leave the library for, save the odd meal, she hasn't said anything. 

The tea was just on the edge of too sweet, with blueberries, blackberries, and most prominently cherries. She took a bite of one of the sandwiches - some kind of peppered meat that she had a sneaking suspicion came from the downstairs freezer.

"How do you feel about motherhood?" the Host started rather abruptly, and Dark just about choked. Panic flooded her for a second before logic quelled it. She had almost forgotten how much of a little shit the man could be.

"I'm practically already a mother to you lot," she replied, just to rib him a bit, "and I've heard the others refer to me as Mom once or twice. Am I correct to assume you mean to say we will be getting a new addition soon, or is there something else I should know about?"

"Dark, while correct in her assumption, does not understand the extent to which this particular Ego will need parenting."

"... How old?" She asked quietly, trying not to think about the implications of the very tea they were drinking. Dark very much doubted that anything on the table was put there without the prophet thinking about it very carefully.

"Fifteen," the Host answered, "and Dark will be an important role model for her."

A girl? Dark had a passing curiosity as to how that happened; tulpa frequently developed some differences from their templates, but to have such a huge difference in both age and gender was rare. 

It occurred to her that if it was just the importance of having a feminine influence in the girl's life, the Host wouldn't have specified Dark as that role model - plenty of the characters in the Manor were just as feminine as her, or even more so. The answer presented itself.

"She's trans, isn't she?" She asked the prophet, who only answered with a pleased smile. "And what of the meaning of the tea you've assigned her?" 

Again, she was only answered with a grin. Seems that the Host had given all the answers he was willing. 

She had almost forgotten how much of a little shit the man could be.


	3. Queen of Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin accidently puts himself in a magic coma and Schneeplestien is the first Septic to find out who the queen of diamonds is.

When it became clear that the Septic Egos and the Ipliers would be interacting more frequently than anticipated, Marvin and Dark set up a system so that any ego would be able to get in contact with any other with nothing more than a standard deck of playing cards. But there was one card that nobody but those two knew the owner of. The queen of diamonds.

While some cards didn't have a designated ego, the cheat sheet that got passed around had a red bar over the name of whoever that card called. It wasn't Amy, the logical pair to Mark, the king of diamonds, as their creators had told them to leave their friends and family out of the drama. Marvin told the other Septics that it was only to be used if there was a supernatural emergency that he couldn't handle alone. 

Looking down at the magician unconscious in one of his clinic's beds, Henrik thought it was finally time to call in these mysterious big guns. While he was an excellent doctor, glowing eyes and floating hair was a little outside his expertise.

He took out the queen of diamonds and his own card, the jack of hearts, from the pack he kept in his desk, and did the simplified spell for a summons request that he had memorised for appointments. It was the only spell he remembered, to be honest, but this was probably closer to Marvin's intended use anyway.

It only took three minutes before Dark teleported into the room, and for a moment Henrik thought he had made a mistake, but the man's next words stopped him from doing anything.

"So you've invoked the power of the Seer."

Then he shapeshifted. The world seemed to flicker for a moment, as if it was struggling to comprehend the change, before it settled with a sigh, and where Dark once stood was a woman with very similar features; still monochrome, but with blood red eyes.

The german decided that moment that he wouldn't say a gottdammt thing he didn't have to. The man (woman?) had obviously assumed that the doctor’s use of the queen of diamonds card - and he would wait to unpack that and all of its implications later - meant that he knew something that he really didn't, and letting on that the assumption was wrong would be highly embarrassing for Dark, which was counterproductive to getting his (her?) help.

Even if Henrik desperately wanted to understand what the fuck was going on.

The doctor showed the Seer to Marvin's supine form, and shared what he knew (a grand total of fuck all). The woman then laid her hand on the magician's forehead, and Henrik did what he did anytime someone did something unexplainable in front of him; watch with a blank face and pretend a part of him wasn't breaking whilst attempting to figure out how that shit worked.

"I can wake him," Dark said, and oh look, her entire eyes were glowing red, how about that, "but he'll be disoriented for a few hours, and you should keep him here to monitor his electrolytes for any sudden drops."

"Got it," the doctor replied, privately congratulating himself on how even his voice sounded.

The woman then did… something, and Marvin jolted awake with a gasp, his eyes returned to normal and his hair falling limp.

"Dipped a little too far into powers unknown, did you?" Dark leaned over the magician, "you're lucky you got to keep your body."

"Thanks Celine," Marvin moaned, and the Seer gave a polite nod to Henrik before departing the same way she arrived. 

There was a beat of silence.

"You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?" demanded the doctor, and Marvin grimaced.

"Not particularly," he responded, "oh! But you should probably use they/them pronouns for Dark in the future, unless you can see them using one form or the other." 

Because that answered any of his questions.

(Okay, it answered one.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark was so desperate for a dramatic entrance that they completely jumped the gun there, huh?


	4. Piano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark sometimes played the piano. 
> 
> This was a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a random word generator to try and spark something, and got a set of words that was just too perfect for WKM:
> 
> Piano, alluring, unkempt, ridicule, clown, brooch, cheat, plan
> 
> CW: Depression

Dark sometimes played the piano. 

Whether they were in male or female form didn't seem to matter, like it did for some of their hobbies, but it did seem to be a seasonal thing. Starting in early October, hauntingly beautiful melodies would occasionally ring through the Manor at night, and any that followed that alluring music would find Dark in the parlor, unkempt and dispassionately pressing the keys, completely at odds to the deeply emotional music they were playing. These episodes could sometimes last all the way through to March, petering out as spring arrived. It was very rarely that they didn’t happen at all.

(Google had an annual reminder set on October 1st, to check the instrument and perform any maintenance necessary.)

Dark was usually so sensitive to any perceived opportunity for ridicule, it was strange for the others to see them like that - uncaring. Depressed. Wil could have walked Wiggles the clown himself through the Manor and the normally strict head of house wouldn’t care.

It was on an afternoon in early December that the monochrome being finally realized that they needed to do something about this. They had stayed up late the night before, playing the piano again, and had just woken up. They hadn’t even bothered to change out of yesterday's clothes, wearing only the dress shirt and boxers, so despite using their female form, they were feeling more androgynous. They were on their way to the kitchen for a light meal when their husband pulled them aside.

“I remembered that today is important, though I can’t quite remember why,” Wilford quietly said to them, “so I got you something. I know you don’t like jewelry, because you rarely get to wear it out, so I got you something you could wear in either form.”

It was a simple, retro-style brooch; a six-sided flower shape with petals alternating between sapphire and ruby, set in silver. It was probably older than they were and it must have cost quite the pretty penny.

Dark mentally walked back the days, and was shocked to realize it was Damien and Celine’s birthday.

It suddenly occurred to them that this was the man they had fallen in love with; that the Seer had loved so much that she decided to cheat on her husband, that the Mayor loved enough to stake his life on the innocence of - that Dark loved, insanity and all.

They had spent so many years brooding in the Manor alone, trying to find Mark and enact their plan for revenge, that they had let themself fall into these mental pitfalls, thinking that it didn’t matter. And every year that they allowed this to happen again just widened the gap. 

But they had people they were responsible for now - and while the power of love certainly wouldn’t fix this, they could use it as a reminder to themself, to put in the effort they were able, and begin to fill in the hole, so the next time they fell into it, it would be easier to climb out of.

They gave Wil a tight hug, and pinned the brooch to their shirt, deciding that it would be the physical reminder of their resolve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no instant solution to depression. No realization that you are loved will magically cure you, but it can help remind you to put in the effort - because pulling yourself out of depression takes a lot of effort, and having the necessary support and resources makes all the difference.
> 
> If you are depressed, make an appointment with a local therapist or counselor. Having depression is not a personal failing.


	5. The Pronoun Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark debuts her fem form to the Septic Egos at the Manor's annual Winter Holiday Party

It was the Manor's annual Winter Holiday Party, held on Solstice this year, and everyone was bustling with excitement, awaiting the arrival of the Septic Egos. What had them all the more excited, however, was that Dark was in her female form. It seemed like the monochrome being would finally be introducing this side of themself to the other Tulpa.

And because it was Dark, she had to do it in the most extra way possible.

She was wearing her favorite ankle length skirt - blood red - with the matching platform heels, and everyone could hear it swish as she clicked across the ballroom floor. Pinned to her simple black blouse was the brooch that Wil had recently given her, the rubies and sapphires’ bright colors shining through her aura. She had even done a full face of make-up - most notably, her lipstick was cherry red at the seam, but gradually darkened out to black at the outline. Finally, to top it all off, she had found an honest-to-god mourning veil.

She was actually looking forward to the chance to be hostess again, as last year, between her seasonal depression and the Glitch Bitch being fucking insufferable, she didn’t even attend the party. However, things were much calmer between the Septics and the Ipliers this year; everyone in the Manor had gotten used to not being the only Tulpa on the block anymore, Bing and Chase formed around the same time and had bonded instantly, and she and Anti had let out some tension on each other and were forced into a grudging sort of understanding.

There were some last minute adjustments, like putting a warning sign in front of the few snacks that contained human meat, but Dark was eventually satisfied that everything was ready for company.

Finally, guests started to materialize at the Manor.

"It's practically snowing sideways!" Chase exclaimed as Bing let him in, wiping his boots and brushing off of his Santa hat. He was unusually well dressed this year, and while Dark knew it was likely the result of some passive aggressive comments from his ex, she still appreciated the effort. The vlogger froze as he finally spotted her, "uhh, hello ma'am."

“Mr. Brody, it’s good to see you again,” Dark greeted, trying to seem at ease even as Bing scurried off with the other’s coat, “there’s plenty of snacks in the ballroom, and if you want a warm drink, there’s both hot chocolate and mulled cider in the kitchen - feel free to help yourself.”

“... Dark?” 

“Yes?” the monochrome being responded, raising her eyebrow. She hoped that by pointedly not acknowledging the change, the man would forego any questions.

“Um,” Chase fumbled his words for a second, before deciding on the excuse, “If it’s possible, could I trouble you for a cup of tea instead?”

“Of course,” Dark replied, wordlessly thanking the other by leading him to the kitchen and pulling out their kettle. 

“Go ahead and pick a tea from the corner hutch to your right,” the hostess instructed, putting the water on to boil. She was amused to see the vlogger pick the container of lapsang souchong from the front, the tea that the Host liked to use to represent Dark. There was a momentary lull, so the hostess asked, “How has life been treating you, Mr. Brody?”

Chase spoke of plans with his kids for Christmas Eve, and though both were aware that it was very likely that his ex-wife would cancel them last minute, it was silently agreed that it wouldn’t be mentioned, just like Dark’s appearance.

It went like that with most of the Septics - the form she was using was politely ignored, and any gendered language clumsily sidestepped. It was honestly beginning to get on her nerves. Thank the gods for Marvin, the only one in that group she had a modicum of respect for.

“So, using your fem form around the others,” the magician started, following her to the kitchen so he could speak to her alone, “how’s that been going?”

“Henrik has been okay,” Dark replied, “he’s managed to prevent Anti from saying whatever it is he’s been so desperate to share.”

“You know, you could just tell them what pronouns you want them to use, instead of making them guess.”

Dark slowly refilled a plate of crackers - Robbie had been greatly enjoying the human liver pȃté - while she thought about it. While that would certainly be easier than the high stakes game of hot and cold they were all playing now, it would mean questions that she didn’t want to answer.

“Or you could do that for me,” she proposed.

“That’s a hell of a favor to ask,” Marvin said, “You sure you want that?”

There was a momentary pause as she finished her plating. She really didn’t want to go out there and have to explain herself, but it was probably a bad idea to let the magician be in charge of her ‘coming out’; it would be worse if he shared something she didn’t want him to.

“No,” Dark decided, “I’ll figure it out.”

Turns out, she didn’t have to. When she returned to the ballroom, all the Septic Egos were using the correct pronouns. Near as she was able to figure, one of the Ipliers had firmly corrected (threatened) them.

She would have to cook them all an extra special holiday meal this year, to show her appreciation.


	6. Card Communication Network

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the constuction of a magick communication system, Dark gets to know Marvin. He's suprisingly easy to get along with, they find.

Dark had a problem.

The Ipliers and the Septics were starting to spend more time with each other. While this was in many ways beneficial, and to be encouraged, it meant that more and more, there was surprise visitors to the Manor, and the manipulator knew it was inevitable that the other group of Tulpa would eventually see them in a state they would prefer not to be seen in, whether it be with their cane or in their feminine form.

So they decided to attempt a controlled reveal of information, starting with a single individual before divulging it to the rest of the group. A test run, if you will.

Marvin was an ideal candidate. He was considered a ‘morally neutral’ character, and the monochrome being had been having some tentative discussions with him about setting up a way for their groups to more easily get into contact with each other; the man had some interesting ideas on using decks of regular playing cards. It was a perfect excuse to meet up.

(That, and he knew how to keep his mouth shut.)

Over the course of a week, the two got to know each other - at first, just checking that their magick was compatible, then making sure that they could work together on a personal level - and they found that they got along to a surprising degree.

On one of these days, Dark brought their cane. 

The monochrome being observed closely as Marvin glanced down at it once, then held eye contact with them as usual. He treated them the exact same as he had previously; the only noticeable change in his behaviour was that he made sure to stay on their left, out of the way of the cane.

Confidence high, when Dark had a feminine day soon after, she decided to push her luck. 

“Marvin,” she began, still using her male form, “I respect you enough- I’d like to share something with you, and I’d ask that you not give this information to anyone that doesn’t explicitly need to know it.”

“Fair enough,” the magician replied, “lay it on me.”

“I’ve lived more than one lifetime in numerous senses of the word,” Dark tentatively explained, “In one of several past lives I’ve led, one where I studied the arcane arts, I was known as the Seer… Celine.”

She finally allowed her form to change, and Marvin gave a surprised blink, but seemed to adjust quickly.

“I’ve never considered doing that with my shapeshift ability,” the magician shared offhandedly, “Um, do you want me to use different pronouns, or something?”

“Generally, I prefer people use they/them unless I’m presenting distinctly masculine or feminine.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” the woman told Marvin, and the relief she felt was so strong that in a fit of generosity she added, “In that case, it might be prudent to assign a card that you can use to call upon this fragment of me, for anytime you might find yourself in need of assistance with a… mystic matter.”

“Man, that would be great,” he agreed, “Using the layout we discussed, that would be… queen of spades, correct?”

“Actually, the queen of diamonds would be more accurate.”

Marvin shot her a serious look, but she held her ground, staring back unflinchingly.

“I’m not going to ask about any of the several implications that suggests at the moment,” the man finally offered, “just… are you sure?”

“Best to be precise, when using magick in such a complex manner; less likely to bite back that way.”

Marvin sighed, but relented. The two of them finished setting up the system - assigning a card to any Ego that wasn’t already sorted, designing a few spells that were as close to idiot-proof as possible, and laying out the framework that would allow this whole thing to work - in a heavy but comfortable silence. When they parted, it was with a respect for each other that could almost be called friendship.

Later, they would grow close enough that Dark would occasionally braid Marvin’s hair if he asked. This would lead to the rest of the Septics becoming convinced that he secretly had a girlfriend. They both found this hilarious.

So the so-called ‘test run’ went better than expected. 

Now she just had to tell Jackieboy Man, Anti, Dr. Schneeplestein, Chase and Robbie. And any other Septic Egos that might appear.

She decided to hold off for the moment, sure that the magician would eventually tell at least one of them, to call her in case of emergency. The doctor was the most likely choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this one mostly written for /months/ at this point, I just hated it. After much fussing, I'm still not happy with it, but it's as ready as it's getting.
> 
> Look forward to a special Father's Day chapter this Sunday though! Who's ready for my boy?


	7. Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the newest addition to the Manor, Yancy struggles to feel like one of the family.

Yancy never knew his father. The only things he knew about the man were told to him by his mother, who would simultaneously blame him for the man’s absence and attribute any negative trait he had to the man’s genetics, so he had learned to take anything she said on the subject with a grain of salt.

He never participated in any of the Father’s Day crafts that his schools did growing up (or the Mother’s Day crafts, after that time his mother threw the flower pot he painted in third grade at his head when he tried to give it to her), but it was just one of the many things that he remembered made him feel isolated from his peers.

This year, though, he had joined all of the others at the Manor in making a special breakfast for Dark on Mother’s Day, and the atmosphere of gratitude and love was… so different. So he had hesitantly asked if the Manor had any traditions for Father’s Day. Ayano told him that they didn’t really do a big breakfast or anything like that, but lots of Egos would get Wilford some sort of trinket. He asked around for an idea of what to do.

Yan had gotten Wil new nail polish, Eric was making him an embroidered handkerchief, Bim planned to bake cookies, the Jims bought some higher end candy. All the answers he got were more like the gifts people would get for their mother than their father; which gave him an idea, but he was hesitant to enact it. However, as the date grew closer and closer, he finally decided to just go with it. He bought what he would need (why was paint so _expensive???_ ), hid everything away in his room, and nearly knocked himself unconscious with the fumes, but he was actually happy with the end result.

On more than one occasion he found himself staring at where it was waiting on his windowsill, feelings alternating between pride and anxiety, and would have to force himself to do something else before he freaked out and did anything he’d regret.

Finally, on Father’s Day, Yancy shyly presented Wil a hand-painted flower pot with a small cactus growing a crown of bright pink flowers. The madman loved it, and gave him a giant bear hug in return. The ex-con shakily returned it, still unused to such freely given physical affection. It was… nice. There was a sense of relief, that history wouldn’t repeat itself this time.

Still, something about it… fell flat. Maybe it was because he didn’t have any traumatic expectations of Father’s Day specifically, or maybe it was anxieties acting up, but compared to last Mother’s Day, he just didn’t get that warm feeling that he was craving. Making breakfast with the gang, and then the whole household sitting down to eat together - it was the most connected he’d felt to other people since he could remember.

He hesitated to talk about it, but after several days of brooding, Eric asked what was wrong, and, well, he was perhaps the person who would most understand; the amputee had always been better with feelings than him. So the ex-con did his best to explain his problem.

“Yancy, how familiar are you with love languages?” Eric asked, which Yancy didn’t follow, but the younger looked like he had a point, so may as well play along.

“You mean like French?”

“No, no,” Eric explained softly, “l-love languages are how different people show affection. Like, Wil tends towards physical displays of affection, but Dark is- they prefer doing things for someone they care about, like cooking us all dinner. It-it sounds like your love language is quality time; you get the most out of just spending time with people. Is- Does that sound right?”

That made sense, but the ex-con wasn’t exactly sure what to do with that knowledge.

“Well, when you know the love language of someone, you can figure out something that can work for both of you.” Eric told him, “M-Mike’s birthday is soon, a-and his love language is gift giving, so what could you give him that- that he would enjoy, while also resulting in you two s-spending time together?”

So after consulting Bing (who was more helpful and less intimidating than Google), he bought the night watchman two tickets to a local theatre’s production of Into The Woods, so they could go together. It went better than expected, and soon Yancy was picking up all sorts of skills and hobbies to do with his family.

He helped Dark with cooking. He started bringing tea and snacks to Ayano’s room, and would stay and chat to give her breaks from schoolwork. He began a biweekly movie night - which many of the others joined - to cuddle with Wil or Eric. He tried to get to know and bond with each of the Egos. 

And eventually, he found he had finally become content in the Manor. While he might not have any blood relatives there, he still had a family - maybe not the perfect, white-picket fence, 2.5 kids family he daydreamed of when he was younger, but a family nonetheless, with a “mom” and a “dad” and more siblings than he ever could have imagined.


	8. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkstache Date Night!

While Wil wandered through time the same way he wandered through space, and needed to be dragged to any appointments to keep them, Dark thrived on a schedule. They had tea with the Host every week, household meetings every other week, and Date Night every month.

Of course, their husband didn’t make it to every Date Night, which they didn’t hold against him, though the two of them had an understanding that if he missed too many he would lose snuggle privileges. Still, he was a very attentive lover, affectionate and adoring, so they never doubted their devotion to them, even with the occasional adultery.

(Dark didn’t mind; if anything, they were slightly smug about it, that they were the one Wil would return to, time and again, while his affairs were flings, quickly forgotten - or more frequently, killed.)

This Date Night wasn't particularly important - it wasn't an anniversary, or birthday, or anything of the sort - but it had been a bit of a rough month for Dark, so she was looking forward to just relaxing with her husband.

So when, shortly after the grandfather clock in the head of house’s office struck five, just as she was setting her pen down for the day, Wilford appeared with a bouquet of deep purple roses, she couldn’t help her soft smile as she got up to give him a pleased kiss and a long hug.

They stayed like that for a minute, Wil laying his hands gently at the small of her back and between her shoulder blades, known problem spots, and she gave an appreciative hum as the warmth seeped into her.

“How about I cook dinner tonight, while you kick back with a glass of wine,” the madman suggested, so she leaned back to look him in the eye. He seemed lucid enough, he could probably handle it by himself. Still…

“What were you planning on making?”

“Silver and Bing ran some errands today, including picking up your order at the butcher, so I thought I’d fire up the grill - do some steaks, some burgers, maybe even some ‘dogs, if anyone’s interested.”

That sounded great, actually; so Wil set her up with a glass of her favorite port on one of the lounge chairs, shoes set aside for the moment, soaking in the evening sun and discreetly watching him man the grill. He even threw together a fruit salad while the meat rested.

Now if only he’d stop killing people live on TV, he’d be husband of the year. 

(It really said something that it was no longer the murder itself that upset her, but the paperwork.)

After a steak - human this time, as she was in a **mood** \- and a second glass of wine, her muscles were feeling pleasantly loose, and the two of them retired to the theater. 

Wil put on some drama neither of them truly cared about, and they settled down to cuddle, Dark reclining against the madman's chest. The man had always been very physically affectionate, and she was happy to oblige him, but she just didn't get the same thing he got out of it. She prefered to do things to show people she cared.

So when she started getting fidgety about halfway through the movie, she asked her husband if he wanted his nails painted. He gleefully agreed and pulled a bottle of polish out of his hammerspace, a pastel shade that was more purple than pink, and laid his hands on her lap to give her a steady surface to work with. 

Wil then proceeded to lean over her shoulder to watch, pressing his lips to her neck. She shivered at having someone so close to such a vulnerable point, but didn't pull away. While it was almost certainly foolish, she did trust the madman not to hurt her. Their relationship wouldn't have worked otherwise. 

It was all about trust; trust that they could stare into each other's very being, and neither would flinch back.


End file.
